Stalked
by NCCJFAN
Summary: Jordan finds herself alone and stalked after "Intruded." Eventual WJ pairing, but involves all CJ characters.
1. Did I Really See Him?

**Disclaimer: Don't own a one of them….obviously. Wish I did….but alas, I don't, despite repeated phone calls to Tim Kring to see if he would like to sell them…**

For once solitude was just what this doctor ordered….

It had been a long day…a long, tiring two days, as a matter of fact. She had just pulled the double from hell…_And now, thank God, it's over_, Jordan thought as she entered the elevator to go down to parking garage and get into her El Camino to go back to her apartment. For once, she was glad she was all by herself…for once, she was glad she didn't have anyone waiting at home…she could go to her apartment, get herself a beer from the refrigerator, sink into a hot bubble bath, and hit the bed – as early as she wanted to. With no one else to worry about but herself. For once, being alone, didn't sound quite so _lonely._

She stepped out of the elevator and began to walk over to her truck. Suddenly, she stopped. She could have sworn she heard footsteps behind her. Turning around, she saw nothing. Cautiously, she opened her car door, got inside, and locked it back. Then she saw him…standing across the garage…a man with sandy, brown hair, staring at her from behind one of the columns. So that's who she heard. Figuring it was another city worker looking for his car, she shrugged and backed her truck out of the garage and headed home. Sleep never sounded sweeter to her

* * *

"Cavanaugh," she said into her cell phone, meanwhile silently congratulating herself on finding it successfully out of a dead sleep. There was no answer on the other end.

"Cavanaugh," she said again, this time a little louder, thinking the person on the other end didn't hear her…maybe there was a bad connection. Still silence answered her back.

"Cavanaugh," she said, one more time…her patience wearing thin. "If you had the guts to call at 3 a.m., at least have the guts to answer me."

The response was only quiet laughter and then the line went dead. Jordan shook her head and chalked it up to some teenage prank…teenagers somewhere dialing random numbers and they just happened to hit upon hers. Rolling over, she went back to sleep, determined not to let this event rattle her, or her much needed rest. She put it completely out of her mind. The next morning, she barely thought about the incident.

As a matter of fact, it didn't surface again in her consciousness until several days later, when she was going back to her El Camino in the parking deck and felt she was being watched. Shifting her purse to her other shoulder, she looked around, but saw no one. But still, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being _watched_. She could feel someone's eyes following her. Looking around and assessing the situation, she saw no one. She got in her vehicle and backed it out of her parking place…only to catch a quick glimpse of that same man with the sandy, brown hair. _I must be going nuts,_ she thought. _This is the second time I've seen him…and he's getting in his car. He's obviously works somewhere around here, since he uses the same parking deck._ But still, she made a mental note to check his vehicle tomorrow and see if there was a parking sticker on the bumper…to validate that the car did indeed belong in the deck.

The next morning, she couldn't find his car – a blue, late model, Ford sedan. _Maybe his wife, girlfriend, or partner works here and he just visits. I've got to get a grip…I can't let my mind play tricks on me like this…._She hadn't been the same since her apartment had been broken into six months ago…she had tried, but she wasn't. She knew that robberies often left their victims feeling vulnerable…and violated. In truth, she had felt both, but had worked her way through those feelings.

She feared the feelings that were left were more paranoia on her part. Her mother's locket had been taken during the robbery….a fact she had tried to somehow link to her mother's murder -- unsuccessfully. Woody had disproved that idea. But still the notion that someone had invaded her personal space…rummaged through her things….took one of her few valuables – but the one that no one could put a price on – rankled her already sensitive nerves.

Jordan had been working hard on herself, trying to find a peace inside her soul. A task that was hard for her to accomplish. She had spent a large part of the past ten years trying to find her mother's murderer. She had only recently accepted the fact that she may never find him…or discover the truth behind the murder. But the search for both had torn her relationships apart. Her working relationship with Garret and Nigel was good. Her personal relationships with both men were at an all time low. She and her father were barely talking. She and Woody weren't.

So she attributed the feeling that she was being watched…coupled with the odd, early phone call, to her overworked sense of paranoia that had mushroomed in size since her apartment had been broken into. _Everything is fine,_ she kept telling herself. Over and over.

And the mantra worked until a week later when she received a card in the mail that arrived at the morgue. It was simple card…one with flowers on the outside…but had no verse on the inside. It simply said, in coarse, almost first-grade-style, block letters, **I think you're pretty**. It wasn't signed.

Nigel had watched her open the card. Emmy had handed it to Jordan while he was in her office going over some ballistics with her. He had read the sentiment over her shoulder. "How sweet," he said. "Jordan has a secret admirer. Any clue who he might be, love?"

Nervously, she chewed her bottom lip. "No. No, I don't. It's probably just another prank, anyway." She shoved the card in her desk drawer and went back to discussing the ballistics with Nigel. The card was never mentioned by her again to him. But when he had left, she shut her door and pulled the card out again. No return address. It had been postmarked from the main Boston post office, so it could have come from anywhere. For a split second, she thought about dusting it for prints. _No. That's just going to feed into my paranoia. This has got to stop…I've got to make it stop. I'm not going to do it._ She resolutely threw into the back of her bottom desk file drawer, determined to forget it.


	2. Nothing Is the Same Any Longer

**Chapter Two**

And she did…sort of…forget it. However, the feeling of being watched lingered…when she walked out of the morgue to her car or from her car to the morgue. She was still chalking it up to her overworked paranoia and was trying to deal with it. Finally, one day, while walking out with Lily after work, she saw him again…theman with the brown hair. "Lily, have you ever seen that guy before?" she asked.

Lily glanced over at the man. "No…I don't think so…I don't know for sure, though. There are so many people that work in these buildings now. Why Jordan? Has he done something to make you uncomfortable?"

Jordan thought for a minute. "No…no, not really. I just see him a lot now when I leave in the evenings, and I don't remember seeing him before….I was wondering if it was just me finally noticing him, or if he had been here a while."

Lily considered Jordan for a moment. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. There are hundreds of people that work in this complex. Think of all the employees that come and go…hired and fired…but if you don't feel comfortable, you can always get one of the security guards to walk you out."

Jordan shook her head. "No…I'm okay. I just…well, you know me. I leave work and I'm so tired most of the time I just don't pay attention to anything around me. He just caught my eye a couple of times and I didn't recognize him."

"You think he's cute?"

"No. I just didn't recognize him."

"Good….I'd worry about you if you thought he was cute…because he's not."

Jordan nodded. The guy was average…average height…average looks…nothing outstanding about him. Not that she was really noticing the way he looked anyway. She was still somewhat smarting over Woody's silence to her. She determined the next time she saw the man, she would speak to him and find out where he worked…or if he worked nearby.

That happened three nights later. She was getting back in her El Camino after working a double and saw him out of the corner of her eye. Determined to get to the bottom of the situation to ease her paranoia, she called out, "Hey…you…" She turned in the direction she saw him….only he wasn't there anymore. She could have sworn she saw him. Swallowing hard and deciding it was her over active imagination and tired brain playing tricks on her, she got in her car and began her drive home.

Only to see him behind her in his car a few blocks away from the morgue. Still tamping down her overactive paranoia, she turned off Commerce onto Peace Street. The man's car turned with her El Camino. She quickly turned from Peace onto Revolution. Once again, the man followed her. Beginning to feel the waves of panic wash over her, she turned off of Revolution onto Main, finally loosing him in the traffic. Pulling over into the parking lot of a fast food place, she put her El Camino in park and tried to calm herself down.

She was shaking…from head to foot and was breaking out into a cold sweat. Running a hand down her face, she told herself to calm down…it was mere coincidence…she was beyond this now…she was over the suffocating feelings that whenever anything strange happened, it was someone out to get her… to hurt her in some way. Cautiously looking around for his blue Ford and not seeing one, she slowly pulled back out into traffic, not heading back to her apartment, but heading to a place of at least some semblance of security….the Pogue.

"Hi, Dad," she called, entering the bar and shutting the door behind her.

"Jordan," Max returned the greeting, without a great deal of enthusiasm.

"I promise I won't bother you. I only need a beer…and I just wanted to see you."

"Anything wrong, Jordan?"

"No…no. I just haven't seen you in …"

"Six weeks. We haven't talked in six weeks."

"Has it been that long?" she tried to quip back at him, giving him a brittle smile as he sat a Guinness in front of her.

"Yes," was all he answered, as he went back to his bar duties and other bar customers, but he watched his daughter out of the corner of his eye. He had pretty much taken a hands-off approach to Jordan since returning from his extended vacation. He had returned to find the bar in ship-shape order, but his relationship with his daughter in tatters. She had taken care of the Pogue as well as he could have…even showing a tidy profit during his absence. She had worked her butt off, according to his employees. But the minute he had set foot back in Boston, she had relinquished all the bar's responsibilities and its title back to him and they had barely spoken since.

She looked upset…and she wasn't going to tell him what about, he was sure. Maybe she just needed somewhere safe to think some things through. He wasn't certain. He did know she was pale. And he would swear her hand was trembling as she lifted the beer to her mouth. "Are you okay, Jordan?" he finally asked.

She looked up, startled. Her dad's deep voice brought her out of her thoughts about being followed…if she was followed. "I'm fine. Just tired…"

"Then go home and go to bed."

Sensing her father had once again dismissed her, Jordan got up and laid a five dollar bill on the counter to cover the beer. She put her coat back on and was opening the door to leave when she nearly ran into Woody. He stepped aside so she could pass him by and make her way up the steps. They didn't speak, but his eyes followed her up the stairway.

"That was odd….seeing her here," he said to Max as he took his usual place at the bar.

"Yeah. She came in about a half an hour ago. Said she just wanted to see me."

"How long had it been?"

"About six weeks. She didn't have a lot to say, though. Other than the fact that she was tired…come to think of it, she really didn't say anything at all… Guinness, Woody?"

"Yeah." Woody sipped his beer and wondered what she had been up to….He had been the one to cut off communication with her. It had been an accumulation of a lot of things…the break in…her insistence that the robbery of the locket meant more than it did…even though she later backed down from that statement. But it seemed like a good time to reassess his relationship with her…if you could call it that. It was hard to call it a relationship when you couldn't even get a good night kiss out of the woman. He had decided to let go of her and any dreams he had of them before he invested anymore time and effort into ….whatever it was they didn't have. He took a long swallow of his beer, dismissing her from his mind and concentrating on the red-head at the end of Max's bar.


	3. A Hair Cut

**Chapter Three**

Jordan said nothing to anyone for the next month. But the she continued getting cards…sometimes several a week…and she still felt like she was being watched. And the brown-haired man continued to occasionally show up in the parking deck…and follow her out in his blue Ford. On one level, she kept telling herself it all was mere coincidence… The man…the cards…just like her mother's locket being taken from her apartment. But on another level…the ME/investigator level, something entirely different was going on. Her gut kept telling her it was all linked. But she didn't know who to tell…or who would believe her.

Jordan sighed to herself. The only person she remotely felt safe in telling right now was Garret, and she wasn't sure what his reaction would be. On a professional level, they still worked well together. But through the years, Garret had gotten tired of her running, her conspiracy theories…her relentless pursuit of cases that sometimes crossed the boundaries of being a ME. The last case that she had crossed the line on had garnered her a reprimand from the district attorney and put her on probation at the office. She was afraid if she told Garret, the probation would be revoked…and she'd be fired. Something she could not afford to happen.

She hadn't felt the same amount of fear about the cards as she did about the man in the parking deck. Until the last several that crossed her desk. The previous cards had been almost admiring in content…_you're pretty…you're sweet…I like you…._lately though, the tone had changed. They had gotten more direct…more threatening. _I'm watching you…I want you…_and most recently _I know where you live_. Jordan's heart had dropped to the bottom of her shoes with that one. Finally, swallowing her pride, she took the card and made her way to Woody's office.

Jordan knew he had given up on her. When he finally had said goodbye, he had told her in no uncertain terms that he was upset with her. On several levels. On the job, he was tired of her butting in on his cases. Personally, he was tired of waiting…tired of being led on and then pushed away. Tired of wanting something and someone he never thought he would have. They had managed not to work together since…Woody going out of his way to alert Garret that he had "issues" with Jordan on a professional level. After the reprimand from the DA, Garret had agreed.

But still, when Jordan thought about it, Woody was one of the best detectives she had ever worked with. And despite whatever had happened between then, she felt the safest with Woody. He had always gone out of his way to protect her…and keep her safe. She only hoped now that the remotest of these feelings remained…and that he would at least tell her what she needed to do.

Gathering her courage, she softly tapped on his office door. Her heart dropped again when she heard him say, "Come in." Gingerly she pushed the door open and managed to get out a wavering, "Hi."

Woody looked up from the file he had been studying. His eyes looked at her coolly, as if sizing up any situation that could possibly bring her back to his office. "Jordan. What can I do for you?" he asked, his eyes returning to his file.

"I have a problem, Woody…."

"It it's with a case, I can't help you."

"No. No, it's not about a case, it's about me."

Woody looked back up at her from his file. "That could go into several areas, Jordan. What area do you want to discuss today?"

It was then she knew she couldn't do it. She couldn't tell him…not and bear his possible ridicule that she was making a mountain out of the proverbial mold hill again. She was a fool to think that he might help her or even remotely care again. Getting up out of the chair in his office, she backed towards the door. "You know…just forget it. It wasn't important anyway…Thanks for your time."

"Whatever you say, Jordan," Woody replied, now looking back down at the file in front of him, never taking his eyes off it as she went out the door.

She closed his door and walked back to her own office and shoved the card in the bottom file drawer with the rest. She knew she was on her own with this situation.

* * *

She had an alarm system installed in her apartment. She made sure her car doors stayed locked – both when she was in the vehicle and out of the vehicle. She made sure she always carried her mace. She asked Garret for different hours…offering to work the graveyard shift….which he gladly agreed to. He always had a hard time getting anyone to work that shift. He had asked why. She had told him she just needed a change. He had accepted her reasoning without a fuss.

But she still felt as if she was being watched. Followed. She was really beginning to worry about her own sanity…whether her paranoia was truly taking over her mind, when she stepped out of the elevator on to her level of the parking deck early one Sunday morning after working yet again another exhausting double. She was tired…very tired and less aware of her surroundings than normal. It was then she was grabbed by the throat and hauled off around the elevator to a dark corner. "Jordan," she heard a low voice grind out. "Nice to finally meet you." She felt a hand pull her pony tail out from inside her coat.

Jordan's chestnut hair had grown nearly down to her waist now, and like a lot of women with hair that length, she often wore it in a loose pony tail, with a scrunchie nearly half-way down her back…just keeping the hair out of her face while she worked in her office. She would pull it back tighter when she did autopsy or trace. She felt his hand fondle her pony tail. The voice continued. "I've been watching you for a long time…I really want to spend some time with you. You're a fascinating woman." Jordan closed her eyes and waited for a time to yell….but he had her by the throat so tightly she could neither shout nor get away. Then she heard the metallic click of a knife opening. She held her breath and waited for the inevitable, but instead just heard soft chuckling. "No need to be so afraid….I'd never hurt you, Jordan." Instead of feeling the cold metal against her skin, she felt the knife cut through her hair at the base of her scrunchie. I just need something to remember you by…something to keep you close to me."

He pushed her to the ground then and before she could get up, all she saw was his back, retreating quickly down the stairwell, out into the street. "Hey…stop…." She yelled… "Stop…." The last was quieter, as she realized it didn't matter. It was early on a Sunday morning and no one but her and ….whoever that pervert was….was in the deck. She sank back down on the floor, tears streaming down her face. Everything in her was telling her to call the police. But what could they do…all the man did was cut off her hair --- about eight inches of it. She couldn't even describe him…they could get him for assault…eventually, if they ever found him.

But she wasn't sure how the Boston PD would react to her phoning this in without at least some kind of description of the perp. And she had none. Gamely, she felt the back of her hair. A good chunk of it was gone. He had taken something personal of hers and that scared her. Only really deranged killers…or other perpetrators did such things. She swallowed hard. She would go home, shower, change, go to the mall and see if she could find a hair salon open and get a decent trim now. Then she would battle with her conscious about if maybe….just maybe, she should call Lois Carver and talk to her off the record.


	4. Telling Lois

**Chapter Four**

Her hair now reached just slightly below her shoulders and the stylist had tapered the sides. It didn't look too bad…it was shorter than her hair had been in a long time…definitely different. Leon, her stylist, said it was flattering to her face. Thankfully, Leon didn't ask any questions about why she needed the new hair do. He just 'tsked, tsked' over the "bad trim job" and went to work.

She was still getting used her hair when she entered her office on Tuesday evening. She was also still wavering over whether to talk to Lois Carver or not…she was hoping that perhaps female detective may have more sympathy for her than a male…than Woody. And Lois had worked as a detective for a long time…she should be able to give Jordan some sound advice.

But she was still undecided…waffling between needing to tell someone and the need to keep it to herself until she had a better description…more evidence. She didn't want to appear like yet another hysterical woman, upset over nothing. Pushing aside her thoughts and worries, she concentrated on her evening's work. She was on the late autopsy schedule with Nigel. She changed into her scrubs and joined him in the autopsy room.

"Evening, love," Nigel greeted her. This was his last task of the day…then he could go home. Jordan was still on graveyard. Giving her a puzzled look, he asked, "New do?" He couldn't imagine why Jordan would want to cut her hair.

She gave him a wan smile. "Yeah. It was time for a change, Nige," she replied, getting down to business. She had found that at least for right now, it was better if she kept everything on a professional level with her co-workers. Especially Garret.

"Are you okay, love?" Nigel finally asked her during the all-too-quiet autopsy.

"Fine. Why?"

"I've just missed seeing you lately. Garret said you had volunteered for graveyard…I just wondered if something had upset you in the office and you were trying to avoid someone…or something." Nigel knew about the fight she and Woody had…he knew the detective had written Jordan out of his life. He just wasn't so sure Jordan had written Woody out of her heart.

"No. Just like my hair, I needed a change… at least for a while. I'll be back on regular schedule soon."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Good. Because I miss you. Things are too quiet during the day with just me, Buggles, and Sydney."

Jordan gave him another smile and concentrated on her work, soon finishing up. She went back to her office to find Emmy had left her mail in the center of her desk…no cards, but a few newsletters, junk mail, and a small package. It bore the return address of a medical supplier. Thinking maybe she had ordered something she didn't remember, she cautiously examined the box…no wires…no oily residue…she carefully slit the tape and opened the box.

Inside was her hair.

Jordan felt her blood turn cold as she picked up the small note inside the box. **Just to help you connect the dots** was all it said. It had the same handwriting as her cards did. Swallowing hard to try to calm her nerves, she dialed the number to the Boston PD. "May I speak to Lois Carver. Is she still on duty?"

* * *

"What is it, Jordan?' Lois asked a few minutes later, arriving at Jordan's office.

"I need you to tell me that I'm not crazy," Jordan said.

Lois gave her a pained look. "Jordan…what's up? Difficult case?"

"No…it's about me. Have a seat." Jordan relayed everything that had happened to her…from the cards, to the man in the parking deck, to her hair. Lois listened carefully.

"Well, I don't think you're crazy…but not having a description is going to make it hard to try to find him…I can run the hair cutting incident through the computer and see if there are any other similar crimes that have happened recently. And I'll take the box with me to see if I can pick up a print or anything. Right now you just keep your eyes and ears open…and don't leave the morgue and go out to your car alone. Ever. Get a security guard to walk you out in the mornings. Meanwhile I'll do what I can. I'll be in touch if I know something. Okay?"

Jordan nodded. "Thanks, Lois. I appreciate it. I really do."

Lois flashed her a smile. She and Jordan didn't work together often, but she liked the young ME. And she was genuinely concerned about her. She left the morgue determined to run the incident through the crime computer first thing tomorrow morning.

* * *

Woody came into his office early the next morning, surprised to see Lois already hard at work. "Busy already?" he asked.

"Yeah. Just sort of caught an interesting case…I'm running a few things through the computer to see if I can get a hit or a lead." The box with Jordan's hair in it was sitting beside her computer.

"What's that?" he asked, indicating the hair.

"What does it look like, detective?"

"Hair…"

"Good guess."

"Human?"

"Most definitely. My victim received it in the mail yesterday. I know it is human because it once belonged to her."

Woody came over for a closer look. Long, dark, chestnut locks….with a scrunchie around the top. A red, beaded scrunchie. His mind quickly shifted gears…he had seen that before. "That looks like….like…."

"Jordan's hair?"

"Yeah."

"Very good, detective. Because it is. Someone cornered her when she was leaving work early Sunday morning and cut her hair with a knife, then mailed it back to her. She's been receiving some pretty scary cards from the same character….and then there's this man she keeps seeing watching her in the parking deck. I'm running this through the computer, but I'm coming up with nothing. There's also no prints on the box….Personally, I think she's got herself a stalker…."

"How long has this been going on?"

All-in-all…about three months."

"And she's just now mentioning it?"

Lois sat back in her chair and looked at Woody. It had been common knowledge between the PD and the morgue that Jordan and Woody had something going on….whatever it was. Then Woody put an end to it. Between that and Jordan's now precarious position with the department, the DA, and the morgue, she was surprised her fellow detective hadn't put it all together yet. Still he was a man….and men aren't always the brightest crayons in the box. "You know how things are with her now…she wanted to be really sure of herself before she talked to anyone….so she wouldn't be brushed off…or reprimanded again…."

Woody nodded as he walked back to his office. So that was why she had tried to talk to him the other day…and he had literally pushed her out of his office. Well, it was good she turned to Lois. Something like this didn't need to go unreported…it could happen to another woman. Still, even as he tried to settle into his work day, the thought bothered him…she must have been frightened….and despite of everything that had happened between them, she still turned to him…and he had rebuffed her. Swallowing hard, he decided to go see her at lunch … to check and see how she was doing….and if she was okay.


	5. Signs of a Struggle

**Chapter Five**

"Woodrow….nice to see you," said Nigel, as Woody entered the morgue around lunch time.

"Hi, Nige…"

"Sorry I don't have those reports ready for you yet…they should be done before late afternoon…."

"Fine, Nige. That's fine…" Woody glanced over to Jordan's office. It was empty and the lights were off. "Have you seen Jordan?"

"Jordan? You want to see Jordan?" Nigel asked, surprised. He was under the impression that Woody and Jordan were no longer on speaking terms…under any conditions….at any time.

"Yeah. I just need to see her…to see if she's okay."

"Well, when I saw her yesterday, she was fine…a little on the quiet side … but fine."

"Yesterday. You haven't seen her today?"

"Woody, Jordan is working the graveyard shift now. If I see her, it's late in the afternoon."

"So she's here by herself at night?"

"No. There's a skeleton crew here…pardon the pun."

"But she walks out at night by herself?" Woody asked, completely ignoring the joke and his voice rising with alarm.

"I don't know, mate. There are security guards around."

Woody ran his fingers through his hair. "Who put her on graveyard? Garret? Is this part of her probation?"

"Garret? No. Jordan volunteered for it. Said she needed the change. Just like her hair."

"Let me tell you about her hair, Nigel. Jordan didn't cut her hair. Someone else cut it. When she was leaving the other Sunday morning, someone jumped her when she got off the elevator and cut her hair off with a knife. And she's been receiving threatening mail…and there's this guy in the parking deck that we think may be following her. It's been going on for several months…"

Nigel was shocked… just as shocked as Woody had been when Lois told him. "She hasn't said a word…."

"Look…just let me know when she shows up for work…would you? You don't have to tell her I was looking for her. It may be better if you don't…" Woody wasn't sure how Jordan would take the fact that he was asking about her…

Nigel nodded. "I'll call you."

* * *

Woody waited restlessly for Nigel to call him that evening. It was nearly his quitting time…and nearly time for Jordan to begin her work day. He didn't like that she was working the graveyard shift. He wondered if possibly he had anything to do with that decision…to avoid him completely, she decided to work nights. But he had no right or place to say anything to her about it. However, as soon as Nigel called and said she was in her office, he was going to go talk to her…make sure she was safe…that she felt safe.

And apologize.

The thought that she came to his office weeks ago to try to get his help, and he brushed her off like that, was killing his conscious. Whatever disagreements they may have had, he was still a policeman. And she was still a citizen. He owed her, at the very least, the opportunity to tell him what was happening to her. But he may as well have physically shoved her out his door and told her to go to hell. So much for his self-righteous indignation. If he would have listened, it could have kept her from being attacked…kept her safe…kept that long, chestnut hair in place….

His ringing cell phone snapped him back into reality. "Hoyt," he said.

"Woody, it's Nigel. She hasn't shown up yet and it's nearly 5:30."

"She could be running late….she's been known to do that."

"Not without calling. She hasn't called."

"Have you tried her cell phone….and her apartment?"

"Yes…to both. No answer."

"Call Macy. See if she's called in sick or anything. Meanwhile, I'm on my way over."

Nigel radioed Lois…"It's Jordan. She hasn't shown up for work…and it's past time for her to start her shift. Want me to go over?"

Lois sighed. Given Woody's and Jordan's history, she didn't think it was good idea for him to get involved. But knowing Woody…. "Would it do any good for me to tell you no?" she asked.

"Probably not."

"I thought as much. Meet me there, Hoyt. But don't touch a thing until I'm in her office."

* * *

She hadn't called anyone at the morgue…not Garret, not Nigel, not Emmy…no one to let them know if she was running late. She wasn't answering her cell phone. That was sending shivers up Woody's spine. Jordan's cell phone was always on her hip unless she was in the shower or asleep. Her apartment phone was also still going unanswered.

"Has anyone seen her since she left work yesterday?" Garret asked. He was just as upset as Nigel was that Jordan hadn't told him about the cards…or the man with the sandy, brown hair in the parking deck. Lily had filled them in on her and Jordan's conversation weeks earlier…but she couldn't give a good description of the man, either.

"He was across the parking deck….average height…brown hair, brown eyes….Nothing really outstanding…he wore a green jacket with a hood. That's about all I remember," she had told Lois and Woody.

"Cards. She told me something about receiving cards from this guy…but I didn't see them. Any of you know what she was talking about?" asked Lois.

"No… but I can unlock her office and we can look," Garret said.

Jordan's office was neat…a few files stacked on her desk…her computer was off. Some pictures. Woody noticed his picture was still there. It was one they had made months before….everything happened. It was at Lily's Christmas party….under the mistletoe. Things had seemed so right then. She was looking up at him and he was looking down at her…her long chestnut hair spilling over his arms. Shaking his head, he brought himself back to reality. When he found her, they were going to have a serious talk…He was going to apologize…and then give her the first degree about being late for work and not calling in. Then he thought he just might kiss her senseless.

"I've found them," Lois said, kneeling in front of Jordan's desk, going through the bottom file drawer. "She's a good girl….kept them in the envelopes and kept the envelopes in order according to the postage cancellation stamp. I'm going to take them back to the lab and see if we can raise a print and begin DNA analysis."

"Do either of you have a key to her apartment?" Woody asked. He used to…but gave it back.

"I do," said Garret.

"Let's go over there and see if anything's out of place."

But there wasn't. At least nothing they could tell. Her guitar was there….which spoke volumes to everyone. If there was the slightest chance she had run away again, the guitar would have gone with her. "It looks like everything is fine here," Garret said, running his hand down the back of his head. "At least, as far as I can tell." Truth was, it had been such a long time that any of them had been invited to her apartment, no one was really sure…even Woody.

"Is her car still here?" asked Nigel.

They went downstairs…and sure enough…her El Camino was there….but the door was open…and her pocketbook was on the seat, along with her cell phone. Swallowing hard, Woody took his Nextel and radioed back to Lois…"It's Woody. We have signs of a struggle at Jordan's vehicle on Pearle. Can we get a unit out here to check for prints….and blood?"


	6. Abducted

**Chapter Six**

Jordan woke to a pounding in her head accompanied by a pounding outside. _Someone is using a hammer on something_, she thought as she slowly forced her eyes open. What little light was left outside was sifting in the windows and causing her head to hurt even worse. She shut her eyes and tried opening them again…more slowly this time.

She was tied to a chair. That much she knew. Her hands and arms were tied behind the back of the chair and her feet were tied to the legs of the chair. She was in a small room with little furniture….a table. A sink across on the other side with some cabinets. Her eyes weren't focusing quite right and everything kept swimming in front of them. She closed and opened them again in a vain attempt to get everything to focus. Finally, giving up, she tried to remember what happened….and how she got here….and was there anyway she could get out.

She remembered getting ready for work. She remembered walking out to her truck. She remembered someone calling her name. She thought it had sounded a little like Woody. She had turned around to see, but instead, something had been sprayed in her face. And then her memory bank was blank. Until right now. Now she was tied to the chair. Her shirt was off….she only had on her camisole. Her jeans were on. Her shoes were off, but her socks were still in place. It was cold. She could feel the goose bumps on her skin. She had to get out….get away. But her head felt heavy….and her eyes were still not focusing too well. And she knew she had nothing in her pants pockets that wouldcut through the ropes around her wrists. Then it hit her.

Her pocketbook and cell phone were back in her truck. She had nothing…nothing to let anyone know where she was at….and nothing to use to escape with but her wits. Sending a silent prayer up that Nigel and Garret would be so ticked at her for being late they would come looking for her, she began to try to wriggle out of the ropes around her wrists…but they were too tight. She tried to think again…did she leave behind in her truck that would give them a clue to where she was at? She wasn't sure where she was at…Did whoever took her leave a clue? Would Lois put this string of events together? Had she been able to get a print off of the box her hair had been mailed in?

Her head was still swimming and Jordan could feel the nausea well up in her as she began to fight the panic waving over her. _I've got to keep my head on straight,_ she thought. _That may be the only thing that will keep me alive….._

She heard the door creak open and a figure came inside and shut it behind him. "Good evening Dr. Cavanaugh…Jordan. It's so nice to finally meet you in person…."

* * *

"What do you mean there's no prints?" Woody asked Lois as Jordan's truck was being processed.

"There are no prints here but Jordan's. The perp left nothing behind. But on the other hand, there's no blood, either, so …"

Woody knew what that meant. At least she wasn't bleeding, but that didn't give him a whole lot of comfort. She may not have been shot or stabbed….but she could have been strangled.

Or taken somewhere else to be killed….

"What about the cards….any prints on those?" he asked, alluding to the threatening cards that Lois had found in Jordan's desk drawer.

"No. Not a print."

"So we're really working in the dark here, aren't we?" asked Garret.

"It's midnight with no moon," answered Lois.

"Hey, Detective Carver," a lab technician called out…. "I still don't have a fingerprint…but look at this…. Propobuloxin III."

Lois gave the technician a stare. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Nigel said, looking at the results with the technician, "that Jordan was sprayed with this stuff and it knocked her unconscious. Whoever this guy was, he knocked her out and has taken her off somewhere."

"Any idea where…has this happened in the area before?" asked Woody.

"There's nothing like this on file," Lois replied, busily radioing in her next set of commands. "I need the phone records for both the apartment of Dr. Jordan Marie Cavanaugh and her cell phone….stat. No, it can't wait. Now. Yesterday was better, but I'll settle for them in the next ten minutes."

* * *

"You don't remember me, do you?" the man said to Jordan, kneeling down in front of her.

"I know you were the man in the parking deck that kept watching me….you sent me the cards….and you cut my hair."

"Yeah, that was me," the man said, letting a finger trail lightly up Jordan's leg. She willed herself to have no reaction to his touch. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Jordan shook her head. "No. I don't. And if you let me go, I swear I won't remember you or any of this. Believe it or not, I am known for my ability to keep my mouth shut."

The man chuckled. A cold sound that made her want to shiver even harder. "You should have thought about keeping your mouth shut months ago, Jordan. If you had, you wouldn't find yourself here with me now…"

Puzzled by the man's statements…and trying to buy herself some time to figure out an escape plan, she said, "I don't understand….."

"You remember the Levinson case…the case that has given you so much grief?"

"How could I forget?" Jordan didn't get so involved personally in cases anymore….she knew what it had cost her in the past….but this case was different. Girls….young girls, some as young as fourteen, were coming through the morgue…some beaten…some tortured….all had been prostitutes.

She and Woody had been on the case from the start. Cases like this particularly hit home to Jordan. She had seen too many of these sorts of bodies in the past….bodies that once housed young spirits and minds…only to be brutally ended before their lives had really begun. Child abuse cases hit Woody the hardest…and those bothered her, too. But these sorts of cases…these were the ones she pursued with all the passion and fire in her soul.

Woody had discovered these young women…girls…babies, in her mind, had been part of a chain of female slavery. The girls were picked up …abducted…from school yards, ball fields…bus terminals. Sold from dealer to pimp. A soulless business transaction where the ultimate price was paid by the girl. If they didn't comply…if they fought too hard….or they tried to run from the dealer, the girls were killed. Jordan had strung the forensic clues together for the case. She worked hard…too hard….pushing too many buttons until finally the DA told her to back off and let the police handle the job now. She couldn't. She didn't. The DA had finally reprimanded her and reported her to Garret. Garret had hit the roof. This was the last straw for the chief ME. After years of dealing with her running, her pushing the envelope….her sticking her nose in where it didn't belong, Garret had put her on probation…"One slip up," he had told her, "One slip up in the next three months and you're outta here. I'm sorry. I know where your heart is, and I understand. But you have got to learn to let the police do their job and you do yours. Just yours. You'll be a lot safer that way."

And it had been this case that led to her blow up with Woody. The DA had called him in on the carpet for feeding Jordan too much information….letting her do too much. "It's got to stop, Jordan," he had told her.

"It will, Woody, I promise…it will. It's just this case…"

"It's every case, Jordan. It's not enough that you drag me along personally….leading me on and then pushing me away, now you're trying to ruin me professionally. I can't let you do that. I don't want to see you again. Neither professionally or personally. Our working career is over. Our personal….whatever it is ….that's over, too. I don't want to see you or talk to you again. Is that clear?"

And with that, he had turned on his heel and left her, standing there, in the middle of the morgue parking lot. Alone.

So reprimanded, probationed, and abandoned, she had continued on with her life….pulling inside herself….Not really reaching out to anyone any longer. The case had gone to court. Woody was there. He had testified. So had she. And as soon has she had, she left. He had told her he didn't want to see or talk to her again. She was glad to oblige. At least that's what her brain told her. Her heart was another matter, but she wasn't listening to it any longer.

"Well… what Woody and you both thought…that there was a man behind the dealer….a man behind Levinson supplying the contacts and the money…but Levinson wouldn't talk and you couldn't figure out who it was? I'm that guy, Jordan. I'm that guy you and your sweetheart of a detective couldn't find."

Jordan swallowed hard and looked him in the eye. Trying to call his bluff, she said, "So….I'm a medical examiner for Massachusetts. Don't you think someone is going to miss me and come after me…find you?"

"I don't think so, Jordan. From everything I can tell, you've pretty much been on your own for months now. I mean, they probably know you're missing now…but they have no idea where you're at, or what has happened. The Levinson case was closed by the DA. No one is looking for me any longer.

"But you… you're different." The man ran his finger up her leg again. "I imagine, given enough time, even your boss will miss you. Not to mention that blue-eyed detective you've been mooning over. And what do you think they'll find when they try to rescue you?"

Jordan shook her head. She really didn't want to know.

The man inhaled deeply. "Not the woman they knew….if they find you. Believe it or not, there's a market for older women. I know…I know…the young ones sell quicker….but sometimes, an older man wants an older woman…a woman with a little more experience…but still has her looks. I think I could find somewhere to send you…."

"You touch me and I'll rip your head off."

The man smiled at her. "I know. That's why I need to make you more…..amendable to the idea."

Before Jordan could say anything else, he sprayed her with the Propobuloxin III again.


	7. Buried Alive

**Chapter Seven**

Nothing. All the lab equipment in the morgue and the Boston PD were coming up with nothing. Not a finger print…not a lead…nothing. Lois had sent uniformed police officers and detectives out within a half-mile radius of Jordan's apartment to question any possible witnesses. No one had seen or heard anything. "You can't tell me that some guy sprayed a girl with Propobuoxin III and loaded her into another vehicle and _no one saw anything_," Woody had said, incredulously, "at five in the afternoon….when rush hour was starting?" Things were not adding up.

Lois sighed. "Who is Jordan's next of kin?" she had asked.

"Max."

"Get him to file a missing person's report. Then we can get her all over the news….and have everybody looking for her."

Reluctantly, Woody found himself going over to the Pogue. How was he going to tell Max that his daughter, his only child, was missing….and had been missing, but they weren't sure for how long. The phone records had come in. There had been no calls either to or from her apartment phone in the past two days. The calls she had made from her cell phone were all business related…families she was notifying…detectives she was passing along information to…all the incoming calls had been business, too…except for one. And Lois was having that traced down now. If Jordan had been snatched while she was leaving to go to work, this call occurred roughly an hour and a half prior. He pushed the door open to the bar.

"Woody," Max said, talking over the din of the bar patrons. "Little early tonight, aren't you? Bad day?"

"Yeah, Max. Real bad. Can I talk to you a minute?"

"Sure…sure…tough case?" The young detective often would discuss particularly difficult cases with the former Boston PD homicide detective. Max often provided an insight that Woody didn't have. No wonder Jordan was such a good investigator. She got it honest.

"It's a tough case…it involves Jordan, Max."

"What has she done now…I tell you, Woody, I don't know what Garret is going to do with her…"

"No… Max. It's….it's…Jordan's missing, Max."

"Missing? How? Has she run off again?"

"No…no…it's nothing like that. She didn't come in for her shift tonight. Nigel called her cell phone and her apartment phone. No answer. We went to her apartment, she wasn't there. We searched her truck, to find the door open and her pocketbook and cell phone on the seat. No word from her at all."

Max went completely white with shock. His relationship with his daughter had been on the skids…he didn't know what was going on in her life. "Any ideas? Do you know what…"

"We know Jordan was being watched….stalked." Woody went on to tell Max about the cards….about the man in the parking deck…about the hair cut. Max went a little paler with each word.

"She said nothing to nobody?" he finally managed to get out.

"No one but Lois, and only about three days ago. The best we can figure, the guy had been following her for at least three months, but she didn't report it. We need you to come down to the station and fill out a missing person's report. That way, we can get her picture out there, in front of everyone….all the police, the sheriff's department, highway patrol….everyone."

Max nodded. "Let me get my coat."

* * *

Jordan felt herself being hoisted over the man's shoulder and carried somewhere. Bracing herself for the worse, she figured he was taking her into the back room of the tiny building they were in. She was surprised when he opened the door and took her outside…but her heart fell again when he trudged over to an outbuilding…he pushed the door open, and sat her on the floor. Her hands and feet were still tied together. There was enough light to notice that the floor of the building had been ripped up. There was a hole dug out, and in it was a box. A big, wooden box. Big enough for someone to lie down and even turn over in.

The man grinned at her. "I think a few days of select isolation may make you more receptive to my ideas," he said. "I'm going to put you in here…" he pointed to the box, "and cover you up. You'll have a flashlight….water….some food. You'll survive….In a few days, I'll be back. Your batteries will have burned out by then….and we'll see just how anxious you are to get out of that box….exactly what you will do to get out of that box."

Flashes of Digger ran through Jordan's mind. No… He couldn't do this to her….That had been the worse case Jordan had ever worked on. It had been the only one that would send her mind careening into nightmares….It had taken her months to get over it. If she ever did. "No…please…." She said.

"No can do, sugar. You'll be fine. I promise. And with that, he lifted her one more time and put her in the box. Laying her down, he pulled a gun from the back waistband of his pants. "I'm going to untie you….and if you make a move, I'll shoot. So be a good girl." He cut her ropes with a knife, and before Jordan could even react, he slammed the lid on the box. She heard him begin to nail it shut.

"Look….I'm considered an officer of the court. When they catch you, there's going to be hell to pay for this," she said.

She just heard him laugh.

"If you let me go, I'll walk away from this and forget it…they'll never know. You have my word."

Nothing….just more hammering. She offered a few more suggestions, but he never replied….just kept hammering….nailing the lid shut and then replacing the floorboards. Finally Jordan heard him close the door and lock it.

She was alone….in the box….underground….in the dark.

* * *

Max had filled out the missing persons report. Garret had supplied a recent picture of Jordan. It had been scanned into the system and alerts had gone out. Lois was still questioning her fellow co-workers.

"She's not mentioned anyone….anyone new…that may be bothering her…or made her feel uneasy?" Lois asked.

They all said no. Sydney hadn't been working long enough to know Jordan well at all. And the truth was, Garret, Nigel, and Bug had pretty much lost contact with her since she began working the graveyard shift weeks before. And even when she was on regular rotation, she seldom talked to them any longer on a personal level. She kept everything strictly professional. Nigel was shocked at himself….shocked at how little he now knew about a person he once considered his best friend.

Lily could offer no more information, either. At one time, she and Jordan would chat about dates….men ….clothes. But no longer. Before Jordan started the graveyard shift, she would come in, go straight to her office, and go to work. She even ate at her desk….or out on the run, doing errands. She no longer chatted with Lily, other than giving her a "Good Morning" or "Hey, Lil, how's it going?" Now that Jordan was working nights, Lily never saw her. She knew nothing.

"Was she seeing anyone at all that you could tell…any suspicious phone messages….anyone new that you would believe in her personal life calling the morgue?" Woody had asked, a little more desperate with each passing minute.

"No, Woody….I don't think she's dated anyone….since…since…."

He ran his hand through his hair. "Since our fight."

"Yeah."

Emmy backed up Lily's story. Other than the cards that had been coming into the morgue at regular intervals, there had been nothing unusual.

Lois finally called Woody over to her. "Hoyt, I hate to have to do this to you, but we're going to have to ask you for a sample of your DNA."

"Mine? Why?"

Lois shrugged. "You know procedure….you two were a couple and you two had a fight. It was common knowledge. Although I know you didn't do anything to hurt Jordan, if we do run into some DNA evidence, we will need to clear you of any wrong doing. So I'm going to have to ask you to give a sample."

"Sure. No problem."

"And a few other questions….when was the last time you were in Jordan's apartment?"

Woody thought carefully. "Not recently at all….probably six months ago at the least."

"She ever in yours?"

"Yeah…but again, it's been at least six, seven months. She was in my office a month or so ago…"

Lois nodded. "One more thing, Woody. I know this is personal….but for the record…and just in the worse case scenario…when was the last time you and Jordan had sex?"

Woody swallowed hard. As much as he and Jordan had flirted and teased with each other….most folks assumed…but it hadn't reached that point. "We never had….our relationship just wasn't there yet…that was going to be a huge step for both of us if it ever happened."

Lois patted him on the back. "Thanks for your honesty, Woody. Nigel will collect the DNA for the lab. Hopefully we'll have her back in a few hours…."

"Yeah…hopefully." He gave Lois a weak smile.

"And when we do….you can make it up to her."

He hoped so…he fervently hoped so.


	8. A Throw Away Cell Phone

**Chapter Eight**

Hours slid by. Hours that she could be anywhere with anything happening to her. Garret was beating himself up over allowing her to work the night shift for so long…for not talking to her to see how she was doing working those hours. She had seemed fine…other than notes from her about the cases, copies of her dictations, a question or two here and there, she had seemed to be coping fine. He had no idea she was being watched…followed. He had no idea she was frightened.

To most people the thought of Jordan Cavanaugh being frightened was a novel idea. She just didn't seem like the type that got scared. But she was. Jordan wasn't as strong as she let on. She was frightened of a lot of the typical things most women were ….snakes….mice…spiders. He remembered the time she had yelled for him to come into her office…a note of urgency in her voice he had never heard before. He had run in…to find her pointing to something in the corner and ordering him to "Kill it….kill it now." It was a spider…not a very big one…he had laughed and teased her about it for days.

But this man….the one thing she had probably seen truly frightened over…and justifiably so….she hadn't breathed a word about. Not to anyone but Lois. And he could understand why she would turn to a female detective, but why hadn't she turned to him at all?

The answer was obvious. She was just as scared he would revoke her probation and fire her because he wouldn't believe her…he would think that she was making it all up. He downed the rest of the coffee that was in his Styrofoam cup and shot it in the trashcan. When she got back, they were going to have a long talk….

* * *

It was dark and cold in that box. She had scrambled around enough to find a blanket…and the bottles of water…and some packs of crackers. She wrapped the blanket around her the best she could. She only used the flashlight for brief intervals….despite everything in her that said to keep it on…the light at least provided some refuge. But she was careful only to check the time on her watch and turn it off, saving the batteries for as long as she could.

She would lie on her back for a while… until staring up at the top of the box made her claustrophobic. Then she would flip to her stomach. She tried to sleep, she knew it was night time, but in these conditions, did it really matter? Did anything really matter? The stuff he had sprayed her with to make her unconscious made her slightly ill. Dozing in and out of sleep, she wondered just how long she could make it in here….would she truly go crazy before this was over….

Would she end up giving into his demands just to get out of the box and keep her life?

Her mind automatically went to her friends…her morgue family and the strained relationship she had with all of them. She was sorry it had come to the point where they were barely speaking. But the Levinson case had driven her hard…the girls….they had been so young…..and despite the fact that Jordan's faith was in tatters, she couldn't help but think _there but by the grace of God go I_, every time another young prostitute was brought in. She could just have easily been snatched when she was their age.

Maybe she should have backed off…maybe she should have let the police take care of it. But that wasn't her nature. She had to see it through to the end. And she had. But it had cost her far more than she realized. More than she may have been willing to pay. Garret had been furious with her….the angriest she had ever seen him. Later, someone had told her that the reprimand came at the same time he found out Rene' was pregnant…and it wasn't his child. Things had just built up on Garret and they came crashing down on her.

She had pushed Nigel and Bug hard on the case, too. In trace…in autopsies…running down leads. She had kept Nigel on his computer for hours….she had stayed on Bug's back in trace. She had to have answers….for these girls.

She had been too hard on them all. She should have backed off….she knew that, too…even then. She had hoped once the guilty verdict came down, she could go back and apologize and everything would go back to normal….only it hadn't. Her co-workers, especially Nigel, had seemed to reach their limit with her. She found only frosty receptions at her apologetic attempts.

As a result, their relationships went to strictly professional standards. She figured this would last a while until tempers had cooled down. And even though she had switched to the graveyard shift to avoid her abductor, deep down she had hoped that this time away from each other would eventually bring them back together…absence makes the heart grow fonder, and that sort of thing.

At least Nigel had seemed to miss her and want her back. She sighed. It was difficult for her to accept that the fact she may never see them again was a very real possibility.

* * *

"It's the number to one of those throw away cell phones," Nigel called out…he had traced down the unknown incoming call to Jordan's cell phone.

"Throw aways?" Wood asked.

"Yeah, you buy the phone and it has a certain number of minutes on it….when they're out, you simply throw it away. You can't re-up the minutes."

"Can you find out the make….where it was sold?"

"Give me a little while, Woodrow….just a little while and you'll have it." It was the first break they had caught on the case. And Nigel delivered. "It was part of a lot that was bought by a series of convenience stores...but I can't pinpoint which one. I have a call into their corporate headquarters now….all we can do is wait. I'm sorry Woody," Nigel concluded, looking at the detective's crestfallen face.

Woody nodded. He knew, at least on a cognitive level, that these things took time. Only he wasn't sure how much time Jordan had left. A few days ago, he would have bet any amount of money she had all the time in the world and so did he…time that would pass and eventually they would at least be able to work together again on a civil level. He wished he would have paid more attention to her when she came into his office asking for help. Her eyes had told him something was wrong…something serious. But his professional pride was still hurting from her actions….and he only had wanted to get her out of his office…and out of his life.

But she still must have trusted him on some level…to come to him before going to Lois. That thought kept the hope flickering in his stomach. It kept him moving…looking…searching for her. She must have felt that at least he could have kept her safe. If only he would have taken a few minutes to hear her out. No…he may have had trouble believing her completely…but Jordan wouldn't have talked about something this serious just for attention. He knew that. He would have at least been sufficiently enough concerned to request that the security guards patrolling the parking deck be made aware of the problem and to walk her to and from her car.

Hell, who was he kidding? He would have walked her to and from her car. He wouldn't relinquish her safety and care to another person. Not as long as he was breathing….and no matter how upset he was with her. They may not have spoken to each other during the walk, but he would have kept it up until that person was caught…then he would have faded away again. Maybe.

* * *

She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she finally woke up. Groping around, she found the flashlight and flicked it on …. 3 a.m. She had been asleep five hours. It felt like days. She flipped over on her back. In one way, she was glad it was dark…at least it didn't seem quite so claustrophobic, because she couldn't see the sides of the box. But in another way, the darkness itself was a torture. She had nearly always welcomed the comfort of night…a chance to close her eyes and forget for a few hours about everything that troubled her….her father…her mother's murder…..work….Woody. She could slip away into a dream world where everything was warm and welcoming.

Only this darkness wasn't warm and welcoming. It was cold. And frightening. Just as frightening to her as when the man had his arm around her throat and was cutting her hair. Just as frightening as this evening when he took her away. She realized she had never been this scared before in her life…not even when she found her mother's body…not even with Digger. Even if she got out of this box, unless someone found her…her future still didn't look promising. She pulled the blanket up closer around her. It was winter in Boston….and she only had on her camisole, jeans, and socks. She was freezing. She wondered if it was possible for her to freeze to death before she starved to death….if he didn't come back. Rationally, she thought to herself that freezing would be the quickest, less painful way to die. If she had to go, that was the way…..

But then it hit her. She didn't want to die….not give in that way. She began to yell…she knew no one could hear her, but it made her feel better….like she was doing something for herself. She yelled until she was hoarse…but accomplished nothing but gaining a huge thirst. She pulled out one of the water bottles and drank half of it….she better not do that again unless she was sure she heard something or someone outside. She didn't want to use up all her water.


	9. Found

**Chapter Nine**

"Cambridge….they're sold in a convenience store in Cambridge," Nigel said, bursting through the door of Garret's office. Garret and Woody had been in the chief ME's office, going over the last six months of Jordan's case files….just to see if there was anything in them that might tip them off as to who could have done this. Unfortunately, the bulk of her case load had been the murders of the prostitutes….a closed case as far as the Boston PD was concerned.

As soon as Nigel had relayed the information about which store, Woody was on his way….The clerk was helpful….he located the number assigned to the phone, but could not remember anything about the man who purchased it. "I sell a ton of these things…but, we do have security cameras….I can roll the tape back to that day and see if I remember anything."

And the clerk did. It was middle-aged man with sandy brown hair that bought the phone. Woody noticed with some satisfaction that he had on a green jacket with a hood. He took the tape back to Nigel, who used a still frame to blow up a picture. They ran it through the computer and hit pay dirt. Charles Ray Pullman, also known as "The Banker" or "Banks" for short. He was thought to be the money man behind many of the prostitution rings in Boston. Woody swallowed hard. Jordan could be in more trouble than he had ever wanted to think about. He radioed in the information. "I need an all points bulletin put out on Charles "The Banker" Pullman. Last seen at 277 Pearle Street. He's wanted for the abduction of Dr. Jordan Marie Cavanaugh, medical examiner for the state of Massachusetts. He should be considered armed and dangerous, and holding a hostage."

* * *

Her throat was sore…and not just from the shouting she did. It hurt…as well as her head and her chest. She was getting a cold. She could feel the congestion building. Putting her hand to her forehead, she knew she had a fever, too. A soft sound caught her ears….no…not rain…not now. But it was raining…hard. She shivered and pulled the blanket up closer around her. Jordan wondered what time it was, but felt too bad to reach for the flashlight and check her watch. She rolled over on her stomach and tried to rest. Maybe she could sleep the cold off.

But she worried about the rain…she was concerned about how weather proof the box was. There was a hole in the side of the box that the man had ran the end of a pipe in. She presumed the other end of the pipe surfaced somewhere either in the building or beyond it, so she could get fresh air. What if therain came down the pipe…

* * *

By sheer luck, the police had apprehended Charles Pullman at a traffic stop. They had brought him in for questioning…and he wasn't answering anything. He had asked for his lawyer, who had run Woody and Lois out of the interrogation room.

Woody was pacing. He always paced when he was upset…or worried. Lois watched him with a cross between amusement and concern in her eyes. "We're going to find her, Woody."

"I know…just …. I want it to be now…I want to know she's okay…This guy…he's dangerous on more levels than I want to think about."

"Jordan's a strong woman, Woody."

"Yeah," he ran his fingers through his hair…"But…."

The door opened and his lawyer motioned the detectives back inside. "What if he tells you where Dr. Cavanaugh is…as well as tells you who's really running that prostitution ring on the east side?"

"I'll have to check with the DA, and then we'll have to see how credible his evidence is," Lois replied. "Meanwhile, I'm not doing anything until he tells us where the doctor is. Not even a phone call to the DA."

His lawyer whispered to him…"Okay," Charles said. "Bring me a map. You'll never be able to find it without one."

Woody shoved a map under the man's face. "You had better be accurate, you'd better be fast….and she sure as hell better be okay."

* * *

The rain was coming in the pipe….Jordan had to lie on her back. She was soaked to the skin and colder than ever….what if the box filled with water? Would she drown before the rain stopped?

Her fever was high now…she could feel it. Trying to keep her wits about her she let her mind wander back to Woody. If anyone could find her now, it was Woody. He had always found her….kept her safe…even when he was furious with her. She prayed that somehow…someway…Lois had told him about what was going on. She prayed he believed her….and that he would look for her.

She wasn't sure what evidence the man had left behind, if any. He seemed pretty thorough…he knew what he was doing. Coughs wracked her body….even if she survived this torrent of rain, chances are she was going to be sick for a while…and that would piss this guy off if he came back for her….to dig her back up….to try to sell her off. She'd be too sick and weak to care at that point…

Woody had to find her…he had to care that much, at least. If he did….if he got her out of this mess, she vowed she would leave him alone like he wanted. He really didn't need her in his life…all she did was trip him up professionally. She had nearly cost him his job more times than she wanted to remember.

Personally, she may have led him on more than she should. At first it was just a game….but later, as her feelings for him became more engaged, she wasn't sure. They flirted….teased each other…but for Jordan, love always meant losing someone. She didn't want to lose Woody.

But in the end, she had lost him anyway….He no longer wanted her. So if he found her, she would do what he asked…walk out of his life and leave him alone. He needed to find some nice Irish, Catholic girl and settle down. Someone who would love him as much as she did and keep his feet warm at night with no emotional issues to deal with.

* * *

"There…there it is," Woody said, pulling his car over on the back country road. The police surrounded the house. Woody went in first… "Police," he had shouted…but the house was empty….but on the floor was a shirt….a woman's shirt. He picked it up. Her perfume. It smelt like her perfume….she was here…somewhere. "She's here, guys…spread out and look."

"There's a building out back," said one of the officers. It was chained and locked, but the officers soon had that out of the way. Woody opened the door. "Jordan…." He yelled. "Answer me….Jordan….."

She could hear him….or at least she thought she could….she thought she heard scuffling….and yelling. Did she, or was it her fever playing tricks on her brain. Then she heard it again…"Answer me, Jordan…"

She began to yell as much as her throat would let her… "Help….I'm down here…..help me….please…."

Woody motioned for his officers to be quiet. Then he heard it again…a weak cry for help. "Down here…" he rolled the linoleum up and they began to pull up the floorboards. It took a minute longer for them to pry the top of the box off.

Jordan squinted at the sudden light…but that all faded when Woody reached for her hand, helped her to stand, then lifted her up and out of the box. "Jordan," he said, simply holding her close… "Are you okay?"

"I'm getting you wet," she answered weakly. She knew she was ruining the suit he had on – she was soaked."

"That doesn't matter," he said, still holding her. "It's over…"

"Is he gone?"

"Who? Charles Pullman?"

"Is that the man that who took me?"

"Yeah, sweetheart….he's in jail….we caught him."

"Good….I'm cold, Woody….so cold….."

"Can I get a blanket?" Woody asked one of the other officers.

"The paramedics are on their way, sir," the officer said, handing him a blanket.

He wrapped her up in it, still holding her close. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow….and she was burning up with fever. "Tell them to hurry," he urged the officer.


	10. Recovery

**Chapter Ten**

She had a severe upper respiratory infection and was suffering from hypothermia, according to the doctors. For days, her temperature fluctuated between normal and 104, while her body temperature was below normal. They kept her warm…blankets, heat packs…slowly it rose back to what it needed to be.

She would sleep and wake in fits….still dreaming she was in the box and couldn't get out…that the water was coming in and no one found her. She'd wake with a jolt, relieved beyond words she was in the hospital. She asked the nurses to please always leave a light on in her room…the darkness no longer held any sort of comfort or refuge for her.

Max had come by to see her as soon as she had been brought into Boston General. She had barely recognized her father. She barely recognized anyone during the days her state of consciousness came and went. She just sort of floated on the edge of reality…not really wanting to remain unconscious, but finding it far too difficult to rejoin her world.

Garret came by…as did Nigel and Lily and Bug. But Jordan found it too painful to talk much to them about what had happened to her. She did speak to Garret long enough to get a reassurance that she still had her job. She hadn't been fired due to her absence from work. "Come on, Jordan," he had said. "You know me better than that." She had nodded and drifted back off.

Woody came every day….sometimes merely sitting by her bed or sitting on her bed with her, holding her hand. "Come on, honey," he said, "Wake up and talk to me… please?" She did try. She knew she needed to thank him for everything he did. From what she could remember that Nigel had told her, he was the driving force behind finding her and capturing Charles Pullman.

Finally, after she had been in the hospital about a week, she began to rejoin reality. Her eyes opened on a Saturday morning to find a pair of clear blue ones staring back at her. "Good morning," he said to her, getting up out of his chair and sitting on the bed facing her. It was the weekend. He was off duty. So instead of the ever-present suit, he had on faded blue jeans and a shirt.

"Hi," she said, somewhat shyly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better…still kind of tired….but better."

"Good. You know, you've given us quite a scare," Woody said, gently taking her hand, careful not to disturb the IV units that were still attached to her.

"I didn't mean to…it's just…"

Woody held his hand up to silence her. "It can wait. The nurse said to call her when you woke up." He pushed the call button by her bed and soon her hospital room was filled with nurses and the doctor, who asked Woody to leave while they examined Jordan. Another chest x-ray was ordered, to see if her lungs had cleared. It was nearly an hour before her room emptied out again. Woody quietly re-entered it, taking his seat on her bed. The IV units had been pulled out.

"So what's the verdict?" he asked somewhat jokingly, holding her hand again.

"I'm better. The lungs look good. The temperature's been down about 24-hours, the hypothermia is gone. I guess I'm going to live."

"That's good," he replied. "Jordan, we need to talk about what happened…."

"I know. I promise I'll give the police a statement just as soon as the doctor lets me. I remember everything….and I'm sure Lois has the cards and the box with my hair in it."

"That's not what I mean," Woody rejoined, but was interrupted by Garret and Max entering the room. The nurses had called Jordan's father to let him know she was conscious again. The two men stayed for nearly an hour, talking with Jordan…Max insisting that she come to his house to recuperate when she was released from the hospital and Garret telling her not to work the graveyard shift any longer.

Woody didn't say a whole lot during these exchanges, merely watching Jordan from the sidelines. The men did most of the talking, he noticed. She actually did very little. He noted that she did not agree to either of the men's requests. She never said she would return to normal working hours. She never promised her father she would come to his house.

And she never promised Woody that she would talk to him about what happened.

He knew the rape kit had come back clean. She wasn't sexually assaulted during the attack. That had been one of his biggest fears for her. But she had obviously been brutalized in several ways….the box being the most obvious. He wondered how long she had been in it. And the look of fear that was on her face when he raised the lid still haunted him in his dreams….She had been cold and wet and frightened. And despite Max's and Garret's comments and reassurances tonight, he didn't think she was really on any sort of road to recovery.

After Max and Garret left, he reassumed his seat on her bed. She was tired…he could tell by looking in those honey-colored eyes. "I guess I'll leave, too….so you can rest. I'll tell Lois you're awake and talking. She'll probably be by here tomorrow and get a statement, if it's okay with the doctor. Would you like me to stay with you until you go back to sleep?"

Jordan shook her head. "No…that's okay. I'm fine." She shut her eyes and curled over on her side away from him.

Woody swallowed hard and eased up off the bed. She needed to talk…but she obviously wasn't going to talk to him.

* * *

By the time Lois arrived Sunday afternoon to take her statement, Jordan's room was filled with flowers – from her dad, Lily and Bug, Nigel, the Boston PD, the mayor's office…and roses from Woody. Pink roses. Her favorite. "Quite a haul you got there," Lois had joked, looking around the room. "Thinking of opening a florist's shop?"

Jordan had chuckled along with the detective, whom she felt close to now, and that she owed and enormous debt of gratitude to. "Thanks Lois," she said.

"For what? Doing my job?"

"For listening to me…believing me."

"No problem. But I do need to get a statement from you…and I'm not sure if you'll have to testify or not. The DA is working on a deal and if that goes through, then Charles will go straight to jail."

Jordan nodded. "Well….I'm ready if you are," she said, indicating the statement.

Lois started her tape recorder and Jordan told her story….of the abduction…what Pullman had said he was going to do to her….and the box. She thought she may break down in the middle of it…it was still so fresh in her mind…and the terror that she felt from the dreams she still had from the event was very real. But she didn't. She made it through fine. She answered a few more of Lois's questions and then the tape recorder was turned off. Jordan sank back on her pillows with a sigh.

"Good job," Lois said, putting on her coat and getting ready to leave. "You talk to anyone about this yet?"

"No…you're the first."

Lois regarded her for a moment. "You need to talk to someone….this was kind of traumatic, don't you think?"

Jordan shook her head. "Not in my life…just another day at the office," she joked.

Lois chuckled. Jordan had gotten herself in some pretty tight spots over the years, but this was by far the most dangerous. "You know, Jord, Woody worked really hard on getting you home. He was the most relentless I had ever seen him…."

Jordan gave her a surprised look. "Really?"

"Yeah. He and Nigel didn't sleep much…they're the ones that cracked the case. Just thought you may want to know." Lois gave her one last smile and left the room. She was going back to have the tape transcribed, but the truth was, she was a little concerned about the ME. Her voice had been too flat….too emotionless during the interview. Lois knew what was happening. Jordan was keeping all of her feelings of helplessness and terror locked inside her.


	11. Back Home

**Chapter Eleven**

Two days later, the doctor said she was cleared to go home. Jordan was glad beyond words…her dad had brought by a few of her things earlier in the week. She showered, dressed in real clothes, and did her make up and hair. Then she called a taxi.

She didn't know what else to do.

Garret, Nigel, Bug, and Lily had been by. But she still found it difficult to talk with them. Their relationships still seemed to be tinged by the Levinson/Pullman case…a case that was now completely solved, but far from over in their minds. Her relationship with her dad was still tenuous and awkward at best. And the words that Woody uttered during their earlier fight kept ringing in her ears every time she saw him_: I don't want to see you again. Neither professionally or personally. Our working career is over. Our personal….whatever it is ….that's over, too. I don't want to see you or talk to you again. Is that clear?"_

She rationalized that guilt was what drove him to the hospital to see her. It was the vehicle that dumped him out on her threshold every evening she was hospitalized. She didn't want him coming to see her out of the remorse he felt for pushing her aside that day she had came to his office seeking help. Upon further reflection, she realized that he was probably right. They didn't need to see each other again. They shouldn't.

She had written thank you notes for all the flowers she received, including his. She thanked him for his time and efforts in finding her…it was a debt she'd never be able to repay. She thanked him for the flowers…and asked him to send her the bill for dry cleaning the suit he wore the day he found her in the box. She knew she probably had nearly ruined it – she had been wet and muddy then….that day. The day he lifted her up out of the box.

Lifted her up and held her as if his life depended on it. That's how her dreams about the box always ended….she'd be just about ready to drown…the box filling up with water…and then his hand would grab her and haul her up to safety…to him.

The taxi arrived at her apartment. She paid the driver and took the elevator up. Home had never looked so good…she opened her door, went in, and shut out the world. Once again, being alone didn't feel so _lonely_. At least here she could deal with the issues surrounding her abduction without people asking her how was she feeling. How did they think she felt? She had been stalked, abducted, threatened with force prostitution, then buried in a box. But her apartment was her haven….her place of peace….she dropped her bag on the bed and followed it down. She had her medication….she'd go get some groceries tomorrow…but for right now, she could rest…without being interrupted.

Until the doorbell woke her out of her sleep. Stumbling for the door, she cautiously looked out through the peephole. It was her dad. Stifling a sigh, she opened it up for him.

"I thought you were going to come to my house when you go out of the hospital," were the first words out of his mouth when she opened the door.

"I'm sorry…I'm just more comfortable here."

"But who's going to look after you? Take care of you while you're getting better?"

Jordan swallowed hard. The same person that had always taken care of her. "I will, Dad. I'm okay by myself. I'm a doctor…and besides, I'm much better. I'll be fine."

"I don't like this, Jordan."

"I'll be fine…" And after about thirty minutes of arguing with him, she got him to believe her and he left…he had to go open the bar. But not without the promise that he would be calling her and checking up on her…he was worried. Jordan had rolled her eyes and closed the door behind him.

* * *

"She's home," Max told Garret and Woody that night at the bar. "Evidently, the doctor released her and she took a taxi back to her apartment. She has to rest until Saturday, but then she said she can go back to work. She said she feels fine, just tires easily."

"Well, then, she won't be working until Monday. I told her no more graveyard shifts….so Monday will be her first day back," Garret said.

Woody said nothing, just continued to drink his Guinness. Jordan had not promised her father that she would come to his house after she was released from the hospital and she didn't. He didn't figure she'd follow Garret's request any better. If he was a betting man, he'd wager she'd be back on the graveyard shift on Saturday…something he was planning to investigate himself.

From the tone of her thank you note, he got the impression that while she was thankful for his help, she didn't expect anything else from him….or want it. He knew why. That was his fault. The problem was, he had changed his mind.

When he had discovered she was missing…his world had caved in around him. Even though he had been angry with her…furious with the Levinson case, he still had found himself seeking her out…just to see her, even from a distance. He had even told Garret he wanted to work with her again…then Pullman had taken her away. Put her in that box. A fact that still plagued his mind…she had been alone, in the dark, frightened, wet…He had heard her recorded statement to Lois.

She had been in that box for nearly three days….and if they hadn't found her, Pullman was going to do the same thing to her he had been doing to countless other girls he had snatched in Boston. Try to sell her out to the highest bidder. He inwardly shuddered at the thought. Between being confined and the threat of that…he didn't know how she had held up…

He wondered about that…a lot…exactly how well she really had held up. Lois told him that she was worried about Jordan. When she had given her statement, her voice had been flat…no inflection…no tears….Lois was under the impression Jordan was just tamping down her fear…hiding it…not letting anyone see how terrified she really was. Trying to appear that her life could and would go on as normal…working…solving cases.

But she didn't need to be alone. Woody realized her choosing to work the graveyard shift was partially to throw Pullman off kilter when he was stalking her….alter her schedule to throw him off guard. But he wondered if it also wasn't partially self-imposed exile….away from her co-workers and their strained relationships….away from him.

Woody signed and threw a twenty down on the counter to cover his drinks. He wasn't sure, but he was going to find out Saturday.


	12. I Can't Get Warm

**Chapter Twelve**

Getting up the courage to walk from her truck to the morgue had taken more out of her than she thought it would. She had circled the morgue five times before she could talk herself into driving into the parking deck and going into the office. Even then, she had nearly run from her El Camino to the elevator in the deck.

Once inside, work offered the solace it always had. She soon immersed herself with reports, trace…the normal light load for a Saturday night. She reviewed autopsy reports…getting up to speed on current cases. She was in the lab, deeply involved in her work, and didn't hear him come in. As a matter of fact, she didn't know he was behind her until he placed a hand on the small of her back.

And she nearly jumped out of skin. Whirling around, and pushing whoever it was away at the same time, she managed to get around to the other side of the lab table. Woody gingerly got himself up off the floor. She pushed him so hard, he landed on his butt. "Woody," she stammered out, "Don't do that….don't come up behind me and scare me…Not now.."

"I called out your name…didn't you hear me?"

Jordan shook her head, still too frightened to breathe correctly. Her brown eyes were huge in her face. "No….you know how I am when I'm working." Jordan would get so involved with what she was doing that she didn't notice anything going on around her.

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't be working the graveyard shift…there's no one here but you, and you get so caught up in what you're working on that anyone could come in here and you'd never know it."

"There are security guards."

"Who can't be everywhere at the same time."

"Pullman's in jail."

"And there are hundreds of other crazy people who aren't."

Jordan tapped her foot impatiently. She really had not wanted to see him tonight. It just made things harder. "What do you want, Hoyt?" she finally asked. If she answered his questions…tried to keep it on a professional level, maybe he would leave and she could get back to work…and then talk herself into leaving the morgue and walking back through the parking deck to her car. God knows that was going to take a while. "If it's about one of your cases, I'm sorry. I'm still not up to speed on everything yet."

Woody propped against the lab table, directly across from her so he could look her in the eyes. "I'm not interested in any case. I'm interested in you."

"Me? I'm fine." She abruptly turned and walked out of the lab. The last thing she wanted to do was get into a personal discussion with this man. She made her way to her office and shut the door. Maybe he'd take the hint.

No such luck. He followed her inside and stood next to her. "So…why are you here, Jordan? Macy told you no more graveyard shift."

She leaned back against her desk and shut her eyes. "I just think it's better for me to work these hours right now."

"Why? Like you said, Pullman's in jail. You don't have to worry about him anymore."

"I happen to like these hours."

"Liar."

Jordan opened her eyes. He was a lot closer than she realized. She tried to back away, only to find that he responded by grabbing her waist with his hands to keep her right there….next to him. "The real reason, Jordan. Tell me the real reason."

Drawing in a deep breath, she said, "It's just better this way….things are still a little tense from the Levinson/Pullman thing. I don't want to rock anybody's boat right now…."

Woody grunted. "These people worried about you…I worried about you. I'm worried about you now."

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Liar." He said it again…cupping her face with one of his hands, he forced her to look him in the eyes. "You're not fine. You might tell other people that….even yourself. And they and you might even believe it. But not me. I know you better than that."

He was so near….she could feel the warmth rolling off his body…She stayed so cold now…it was like she couldn't shake the chills that had wracked her body when she was in the box….that feeling lingered and she couldn't get rid of it no matter how hard she tried…extra shirts….sweaters….the feeling wouldn't go away. But he was warm…and his eyes were telling her he was worried now. Before she could stop herself, a tear escaped from one of her eyes. That was the last thing she wanted to happen. She was beyond this now…she was made out of tougher stuff than that. But his response was just to pull her closer to him…hold her just as tightly as he did that night when they found her.

And then the tears came in earnest. Everything she had been keeping bottled up inside her came out. She was barely aware that he took her over to the couch in her office and sat down, pulling her across his lap. She tried to fight the tears, but it was a useless battle. "Shh….it's okay Jordan…you're safe….no one will hurt you again…"

"I'm just cold, Woody…so cold….I can't get warm now."

He pulled the Patriots throw she kept across the back of the couch over her. Cold? How could she be cold? It was at least 72 degrees in her office. "You're cold?" he asked. He felt her nod against his chest.

"Ever since….you got me out of that box….I was so cold in there….freezing…I just don't feel like I can get warm again. Silly, isn't it?" she replied, beginning to get control of her tears, wiping her eyes on the backs of her hands.

He wanted to tell her no…it wasn't silly. It was probably a psychological reaction to the trauma she had gone through, but she pushed away from him and stood up, walking away from him to go to her desk and get a tissue. "I'm sorry, Woody….sorry I broke down like that…I think I got mascara on your shirt…I'm sorry."

He stood up and walked over to her. "Don't worry about the shirt…are you okay?" She wasn't. He could tell by looking at her. She looked precipitously close to breaking down again.

She nodded. "I just need to go home now. It's quitting time."

"Get your things. I'll walk you to your car."


	13. Playing by the Rules

**Chapter Thirteen**

He walked her to her car…and followed her home. Then he walked her from her car to the building…and rode with her in the elevator to her apartment. He unlocked the door for her and helped her inside.

"Will you be okay tonight?"

Jordan nodded. She looked better than she had in her office, but still appeared too vulnerable for Woody's liking.

"Will you call me if you get scared? If you need anything?"

"Yeah…sure," her voice didn't sound too convincing.

"You want me to stay here tonight? On the couch?"

A huge part of Jordan…a large chunk of her heart wanted to say yes….but his words still echoed through her mind: _I don't want to see you again. Neither professionally nor personally. Our working career is over. Our personal….whatever it is ….that's over, too. I don't want to see you or talk to you again. Is that clear?"_

"No…thanks. I'll be fine."

Puzzled, Woody replied. "Okay….are you sure, Jordan?"

She nodded. "It's late. You'd better go."

* * *

Garret finally talked her into returning to normal office hours. It had been awkward at first….things between herself, Nigel, Bug, and Garret. It slowly got better, but Jordan kept more to herself than ever…seemingly content to keep her relationships with her co-workers only on a professional level.

No matter how much they wanted to change it.

Nigel tried…hard. He teased…talked….tried to joke his way back into her life to no avail. The Jordan he knew…the fun-loving, hard-working ME was no longer there. Instead, he saw a young woman who still worked hard, but was seemed to be constantly looking over her shoulder in fear…fear she was going to be hurt again…or get into trouble. She kept did things "strictly by the book" these days…_no fun at all_, Nigel thought.

He voiced his concerns to Garret. "That's what job probation is supposed to do to you," he told Nigel. "Make you straighten up and fly straight…not screw up."

"Yeah, but this is Jordan we're talking about. She's never played by the rules. She'd always write her own. And you know damn well you would have never put her on probation if Rene' hadn't of come up pregnant the same day Jordan's reprimand came down from the DA."

Garret had to admit that Nigel was right. As much as Jordan was his "resident pain in the butt," he rarely called her on the carpet….at least with much heat, anyway. He played favorites with her…he admitted it. But she was also the best ME he had. She did more, gave more, knew more than anyone else he had ever worked with…including himself, although he would never admit it to her. Her problem was that she didn't know when to back off. In Jordan's mind, the lines blurred between her job as an ME and Woody's job as a detective. They both were working toward the same end … solving the case. So what did it matter if she crossed the lines a few times?

Now Garret was faced with a problem he thought he would never have with Jordan…she was doing things too much by the rule book…at least too much for Jordan Cavanaugh. She had gone from being his rogue employee to being a candidate for employee of the month. She was even washing her own coffee cup out in the morgue break room. "I admit…she's not acting like herself at all…I know what happened to her with Pullman is going to bother her for a long time. Couple that with the probation, and it all has had an effect on her…but I'm not quite sure what to do about it."

Nigel nodded. "Have you talked to Dr. Stiles?"

Garret sighed. "Yes. And so has Jordan. She insists she has seen the error of her ways in pushing the envelope too far and has reformed. And as far as the Pullman incident goes, she said she was fine….just give her time."

"That doesn't sound like Jordan."

"No, Nige. No, it doesn't. It sounds like she's just…well….given up. She thinks if she goes by the rules, she won't get hurt again."

"But she's not even talking to us much….I'm worried about her."

"I know. I believe she thinks that if she goes by the rules and isolates herself, she won't be hurt…and won't hurt anyone else."

Nigel glanced over at Jordan, who was busily working in her office…doing _paperwork?_ God forbid…she hated it. He did know one thing….he was going to have to keep a closer eye on his girl for a while.

* * *

The next few months slipped by without incident from Jordan. As winter faded into spring, Jordan appeared to be coping fine…coping, but not back to normal. She worked normal hours. Her hair grew back out.

But she couldn't shake the fear that she would be abducted again when she walked from her El Camino to the morgue or back to her car at night. And she still couldn't get warm. She felt cold, even with the early spring temperatures pushing the 50's and 60's in Boston. She had dealt with these fears so long by herself, that she couldn't remember a time when they weren't her constant companions. She was just beginning to understand that her fears of being hurt again…or hurting others would most likely closely accompany her for the rest of her life. In an uncharacteristic burst of optimism, she decided that this may be the best thing….if it made her aware enough to be cautious, then nothing would happen….to her or to others.

She and Woody were working together again. He had told Garret that he no longer had the same professional "issues" with Jordan that he had before. So they were solving cases together, but that was all. She kept her relationship with the detective on such a professional level that Woody was concerned. She rarely joked with him. Never teased. Often Woody would leave a homicide scene with a worried look on his face that had nothing to do with his victim. It was all to do with her. He hoped that as spring pushed its way through Boston, and the bulky clothes she was wearing to keep warm came off, she would feel like herself again…feel better. That maybe her face would hold a little more color than it had.

Pullman had pleaded out. He had gone straight to jail. Jordan didn't have to testify. She didn't have to come into the courtroom and see the box that she spent three days and nights in. For that, Woody was grateful. As soon as everything was cleared, he destroyed the box himself, wishing during the process that he could somehow get rid of her memories of the event just as easily as he had splintered the wooden sides of that box.

He, Nigel, and Garret had talked. He was very aware of her fears…of her playing strictly by the rules now. Like Nigel, he knew that wasn't Jordan. Not the Jordan he knew…not the Jordan he loved. Not the Jordan he wanted back. Finally, one day, after they had worked a crime scene together, they were getting ready to go back to their offices. She was loading her equipment in her SUV. He paused at her door. Thinking he needed to know something about when her report would be in, she said, "I'll probably have the preliminaries ready for you in a few hours. Do you want me to fax them over to you or do you want to come by and get them?"

"Either is fine," he replied. "And Jordan," he continued as she turned to leave, "let me know when you're through being upset with me."

"Upset?"

"Yeah…"

"I'm not upset with you, Woody."

"Then why aren't you talking to me anymore?"

"We talk…"

"About cases…sure. But nothing else."

Jordan gave him a puzzled look. "But you said…"

The crackle of Woody's radio interrupted their conversation. He stepped aside to talk with whoever was on it for a few minutes. "Look, Jo…I have to go. Can we finish this conversation later? Can I come by your apartment tonight?"

Jordan nodded, wondering what on earth he was talking about. _He said it was over. Professionally, we are working together again. Personally, he told me whatever it was we had, was over. He didn't want to see me again._


	14. Confronting Her Fears

**Chapter Fourteen**

She looked nice. At least she thought she did. She had gone home, showered and changed into a denim skirt and peasant blouse. She wasn't sure what Woody needed to talk to her about exactly, but wanted to at least look good.

At eight, he knocked. She went to the door, undid all the new locks she had put on and let him in. He came in, bearing a large pizza and a six pack of Guinness. He grinned and said, "Hope you haven't eaten yet. I got off about an hour ago…and haven't had a chance to grab dinner yet." She shook her head. She had been too nervous to think about eating. She got the plates down out of the cabinets and set them out.

Several slices of pizza and a beer or two later, she finally asked, "What did you want to know, Wood?"

Woody wiped his mouth, and turned to face her. "I want to know….I need to know, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Woody looked at her closely. "I don't think so. You haven't been yourself since Pullman. You're too quiet…you never want to talk about anything that isn't work related….you really haven't talked to me since that night in your office."

Jordan lowered her head. "I thought that was what you wanted. You told me that personally, whatever we had…was over. You didn't want to talk to me."

He signed and reached for her hand. "I said that when I was angry about the Levinson case. Come to find out you were right….there was someone else behind all that. If I would have listened to you…Pullman would have been found earlier and you would have never gotten abducted. Do you know the guilt I've carried around with me since then?"

Jordan pulled her hand away. "There's no need to feel guilty. You didn't know. No one did. It happened, it's over…it's done."

"I don't think it's over, Jo. Not for you. You're scared…I think you're coping, but deep down inside, you're fearful…when you go to your car…to the morgue…I know. I've seen it in your eyes…And I feel responsible for it. If I would have listened to you…"

"No. There was nothing there in the Levinson case to give us a solid lead onto Pullman."

"But if I would have listened to you the day you came to my office about the threatening cards…I might could have done something."

"And if I hadn't of pissed you off so badly, you may have listened."

Woody gazed into her eyes. "So we're back at square one. Maybe…just maybe…we should never make each other that angry again." He ran his hand softly down the side of her face. "What do you think?"

Jordan nodded, the fleeting thought running through her head that she didn't want him to move his hand. If he would just keep it there, on the side of her face, she would feel so much better. Her hand automatically raised and covered his on her cheek, as if to silently tell him what she wanted. If it wasn't over between them…then what was he going to do?

Pull her to him and kiss her.

Slowly, thoroughly, only breaking it to whisper in her ear, "Don't pull away from me this time, Jo, please?"

She couldn't have it she wanted to…not that she did. Her arms went around him and somehow or another, she found herself in his lap on her couch. It was minutes later when he finally broke the kiss long enough to look in her eyes, smooth back her hair, and make sure she was all right. "I've been so worried about you…we all have."

Held in the security of his lap and arms, for the first time Jordan would admit just how scared she had been….how fearful she had become. How she couldn't shake that feeling…how cold she still felt. "I don't know what to do about it. I've talked with Dr. Stiles…I know, at least cognitively, nothing is going to hurt me….but I just feel differently…like it could again."

The vulnerability of victims. Woody had seen it over and over again. They knew nothing was going to happen…but that didn't erase the feeling it might. Funny thing. In all the years he had known Jordan…been witness to her tensile strength, he never had pictured her as a victim. He knew of only one way to get her over those fears.

"You need to go talk to Pullman," Woody said. "There wasn't a trial…he never saw you after he put you in that box. You need to tell him what he did to you."

"Why? That won't do any good…he's in jail…he pleaded out."

"I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about you. Confronting the person…the monster that victimizes you somehow makes him seem smaller…less threatening. And then you can go on with your life, Jo."

She shook her head. "I don't know, Woody. I never really want to see him again."

Woody took both of her hands in his. "I think it would be good for you. You never know until you try…You've backed down governors, mayors, and DA's. I wouldn't let this one guy ruin the rest of my life."

Jordan swallowed hard. He had a point. But to confront Pullman face-to-face again… even though it would be under controlled circumstances…he couldn't get to her…there would be a myriad of police there. There was only one way she could and would go through with this. "Will you go with me, Woody? Will you be there the whole time?"

Tightening his grip on her hands, he replied. "Every step of the way. I won't let go of you for a minute."

* * *

Woody managed to arrange the meeting through victim's services, although Pullman's lawyer fought it. "He's paying the price for his crime, why add to the mental distress?" she asked. Woody's response was simply to get a judge that owed him a favor to sign off on the order and set the date.

When the day came, he picked her up at the morgue. She was pale and looked strained, but was determined to see it through. She had to get her life back on track. Since that night at her apartment, Woody had seldom left her side, except to go to work. He had stayed at her apartment that night and every night after…helping her to deal with her fears and get ready for the meeting. He had held her at night and kept her confidence up during the day.

And she needed a lot of that right now…confidence. She tightened her grip on Woody's hand as he walked with her down the halls of the prison. She felt him return the squeeze. She was shown into a small room. Pullman was already there, sitting at a small table. Swallowing her fear, she sat down and looked at her abductor. He was really a tiny man. A small, nondescript man, with brown hair, brown eyes, and a droopy moustache. How could this man hold so much power over her…evoke so much fear?

"I hear you want to talk to me about what happened, sugar…." Pullman drawled out. Jordan tightened her grip on Woody's hand one more time. Sugar? Ten minutes later, she had verbally laid him out. She told him everything – letting loose of all the anger and the fear that was inside of her.

"Yeah. Well. So what?" was his response. "What do you expect? An apology?"

Jordan thought for a minute. "No. No apology is necessary or wanted. This meeting wasn't for you …. It was for me. At least now, I can get up and leave…go home to people that I love and to a job that I love. I have the freedom to come and go as I please. You'll be dead before that happens to you. I seriously doubt you're going to outlive a sentence of 25 to 50 years. And when and if you do come up for parole, I'll be here. Every time. Don't think my feeling about you and what you did to me will ever change." And with that, she got up and left, the bars of the jail clanging behind her and Woody. She finally felt like her fear had been left there, locked up with Pullman.

"How do you feel?" Woody asked, a little concerned about her emotional state after the turn of events.

Giving him what she felt was her first real smile in months, she replied. "Warm. I feel warm, Woody. I'm not cold any longer."


End file.
